Symptoms
by VoiDreamer
Summary: Ryder is reasonably certain that she is getting sick, or is sick already. Maybe it has to do with Kadara's damnable mountainous terrain? Or maybe she just needs more sleep? It most certainly has nothing to do with the very smooth, infuriatingly handsome and smug man she is currently trying to help. [F!Ryder's thoughts on Reyes Vidal with Cora and Vetra in the backseat]


AN: Thanks to everyone for your comments and favorites of my other 2 Reyes/Ryder fics! Your comment and support has been so wonderful.

I thought I'd share something this time that was a little more about Ryder's POV while I'm playing with their relationship.

Goal is still to get a proper fic up and written, but we'll see how it goes!

Enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

Ryder is reasonably certain that she is getting sick, or _is_ sick already.

Yes, that's it. She's already sick.

After the scorch of Eos and the frigid ice of Voeld her body has clearly had enough, and there's no mistaking the uncomfortable twisting of her stomach.

She's ill, she _has_ to be.

Maybe it has to do with Kadara's damnable mountainous terrain, nevermind that her suit is all sorts of comfortable and is climate controlled too.

Or maybe she just needs more sleep? That sounds reasonable, doesn't it?

It most certainly has nothing to do with the very smooth, infuriatingly handsome and smug man she is currently trying to help.

Definitely nothing to do him. And besides, she's doing it for _Kadara_ damn it.

Murderers are bad. She likes making bad things go away.

Gritting her teeth as she makes a rather sharp turn off a near vertical ridge and punches the Nomad's jets, Ryder almost swears aloud.

Lexi had said there was _nothing_ wrong with her, nothing that medicine could treat.

But if that was true, then why did she feel so damned _nauseous_?

Grumbling to herself as she accelerates through an unfortunate collection of Kett, Ryder double checks her course before making just the slightest of adjustments in absolute silence.

It's at that very moment her companions choose to butt-in.

"You have it _so bad_." Cora teases, and she sounds thrilled at the prospect. Further behind, but just as noisy Ryder can hear Vetra practically cackling in glee.

Turning in her seat, she tries to muster the most serious scowl she's ever worn, but it is very clear she fails when, instead of silence, the spacious interior fills with unrestrained laughter. Two badass lady warriors, and she's reduced them to giggling schoolgirls.

Hunching back behind the wheel, Ryder groans, feeling her face flush.

"Oh stop it you two." Pressing her face to the wheel she moans again, "I hate feeling like this. It's been like this for _months_."

"It's called _infatuation_." Cora chuckles, nudging the driving controls her way, letting her friend sulk in the chair.

"We've gone head to head with Kett leadership and it was no big deal. I even shot one in the face! But this _man_ smiles at me, winks at me _once_ and _that_ is what makes me nervous?!"

Throwing her hands up, Ryder looks to Vetra, "Any chance you know of a secret black-market fix to this?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Vetra's sharp eyes gleam with amusement, "All of my business transactions have been perfectly legal. Always."

"Uh-huh." Ryder nods and gestures out to where a lone outpost has just come into view, "And _I'm_ suffering from motion sickness."

"Well at least it's not denial anymore." Vetra chuckles, "The entire time we were on Havarl it was 'No, I don't want to talk about it. I must be getting sick.' _Now_ at least we're getting somewhere."

"It's attraction." Cora chimes in, "Nothing wrong with that."

"Nothing wrong." Ryder repeats the words and shakes her head, "Do you hear yourself? I cannot be _infatuated_ with a _smuggler_ on a planet of mercenaries and pirates."

Ryder glances down at her pistol and she wipes a smudge of dirt from it, "Can I _please_ not be the cliched do-gooder that has a crush on the bad boy? I already have to live with the whole trying-to-be-a-hero thing."

"Does it make you feel any better if we call him a 'scoundrel'?"

Ryder's fierce expression sets off another round of laughter that carries them to the very entrance of their intended target.

Irritated as she is, Ryder does not even have the patience to wait for the Nomad to stop before she's releasing the door lever and sliding out into the dry Kadaran landscape.

"You both better hope we have something to shoot at inside" She calls as she takes the ramp, "Otherwise it'll be lots of training when we get back to the Nexus. You two have way too much time for gossip."

"Yeah, yeah. Lead the way Pathfinder. Vidal should be waiting inside right."

"That man?" Ryder snorts, as she unlocks the doors, but a smile tugs at the corner of her lips, "I doubt that. No way does a scoundrel show up on time, for anything."

And of course, he _is_ late.


End file.
